Oooh, Buttons
by I. H. Scribe
Summary: Sherlock steals another one of Mycroft's identification badges and touches something he shouldn't.


Fandoms: Star Trek 2009 (Post Into Darkness), Sherlock, minor mentions of Doctor Who

Characters: Sherlock Holmes, Jim Kirk

Prompt: Time travel causes Jim Kirk and Sherlock Holmes to meet.

Prompt Made By: I. H. Scribe

Disclaimer: I don't own the following series(es) or any character(s) that follow, and unless _I. H. Scribe_ is listed after _Prompt Made By_ chances are I don't own the idea for this story either.

* * *

Mycroft should have been suspicious when Sherlock walked him to the door of 221B, but he had been up for three days already – three different terrorist plots and two rogue spies, and of course Mycroft had to deal with all of it personally as his minions – apart from Anthea, or was it Allison, today? – were complete idiots and had mucked things up already. He had been practically mainlining caffeine, until – Alexa? No, maybe Amber? – his assistant had cut him off two hours ago.

Naturally, Sherlock had interfered in one of the terrorist plots – "I was following a case, Mycroft!" – no doubt solely to make him and Mummy worry – "I'm not the one that made her cry!" – and ensure Mycroft's headache didn't go away. Not being on the top of his game at the time – which was fine; his assistant – Aura? No, oh it didn't matter; whatever she was calling herself today – was perfectly capable of running things temporarily – he didn't notice when Sherlock lifted a security badge off him.

He would be asleep when the text alert came from his assistant. Since his standing orders where to let Sherlock in but keep in eye on him when he used one of Mycroft's identification badges – otherwise he'd be bailing Sherlock out of jail constantly – his assistant confirmed that the holder of the badge was Mycroft.

Had Mycroft been awake, he would have made sure that Sherlock didn't go anywhere near the place he was currently taking a leisurely stroll in – it was the English equivalent of Area 51, where they stored alien artifacts in London since that incident with Torchwood at Canary Wharf.

* * *

Sherlock inspected everything he came across, before declaring it as either _boring_, _more boring_, or _even more boring than those other things_. It should be noted that, in between a case and the mind-numbing sort of boredom that led to him shooting a smiley face into the wall, Sherlock went into the phase John liked to call his 'adhd kid-like' phase.

Still coming down from the high of a case, and just beginning to be bored, Sherlock could be a real nightmare. John normally handed Sherlock a Rubik's Cube – usually one that John had been twisting and turning around for weeks – and then left the apartment. Sherlock's in between phase was even scarier than his mind-numbingly bored phase.

Sherlock would solve the cube within minutes and then end up looking for another distraction. If John hadn't been so busy running away when Sherlock was in his in between phase, he'd have noticed Sherlock was usually attracted to things with buttons on them – the more buttons without labels there were, the better.

A box with buttons that didn't even do anything when pressed would have kept him entertained for hours.

Finally, Sherlock found something that caught his eye. A wrist strap with lots of buttons on it. Anyone from the fifty-first century and beyond could tell you it was a vortex manipulator, but no one from that time period was around.

And so, Sherlock gleefully pressed a few buttons, and disappeared.

* * *

Jim Kirk was startled out of sound sleep when a body dropped into his bed and bounced off it to the floor. The lights came on as Jim scrambled out the other side of his bed, grabbing his phaser and pointing it at the intruder. The intruder was far more interested in the wrist strap he had, but Jim recognized him almost immediately.

"Khan!" he snarled, dropping the phaser, and launching himself over the bed at the other man.

* * *

Sherlock wasn't sure how the wrist strap moved him from one place to another, but he was going to figure it out, just as soon as he was done with the idiot trying to beat his face in. The other man was good, but Sherlock was better – his father had always insisted on a fit body for a fit mind and had bought personal tutors for many different forms of martial arts for both his sons.

When Sherlock had the other man pinned, he reviewed his memory of the encounter, and asked, "Who is Khan?" To Sherlock's surprise, the other man stopped struggling almost immediately, and suddenly looked unsure.

"Obviously, someone you don't like, possibly hate even, and who looks a great deal like me, judging by your reaction," Sherlock said. "Are you a jilted lover or did he kill someone you care about?"

* * *

Jim began struggling again as soon as the man – not Khan it seemed, no matter how much they looked alike, which was creepy – asked if he was a jilted lover, snarling out, "He killed Pike!"

"I was unaware of the significance of a polearm's demise could bring such fury to a person. How interesting." If anything, the man was more like Spock than Khan, despite his looks.

"Pike wasn't a polearm. He was my-!" Jim let out a frustrated growl.

"Your what? Father? No, not biologically, but the closest thing you had, yes? I am sorry for your loss," the man said, but it sounded insincere. He held out the wrist strap, and asked, "Do you know what this is?"

"No?" It looked like a bulky watch, but other than that – Jim had no idea.

"Pity." The man seemed to lose all interest in him, and began pressing buttons. Jim blinked and the man was gone. He sat up, eyes darting around the room. No one but him.

Had he dreamed that encounter?

He had had a lot to drink at Chekov's birthday party last night. Maybe he shouldn't have tried that Orion dish Uhura had sworn to him was the best tasting food ever. It appeared to react badly with alcohol. Jim climbed back into bed, and fell asleep. By morning he'd forget all about the man with his bulky watch.

* * *

Sherlock appeared back in the same spot he left, only sun was shining into a window, and by the sounds of it, a guard was making his rounds. No telling when Mycroft would sound the alarm, so Sherlock quietly snuck out and made his way off the grounds.

He kept the wrist strap for further study.

* * *

As always, I am accepting prompts, however, I am not accepting prompts through reviews. If you wish to give me a prompt, please see the Accepting Prompts section of my profile for instructions. Thank you.

I. H. Scribe


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